Dreaming of Moonshine
by fraise et creme
Summary: Being born in a new world mainly sucks because kids don't get to do cool stuff like excessive drinking and indiscriminate murder... for the most part. (In which a near-encyclopedic knowledge of a fictional world isn't as great as everyone else says it is.) [AU, OC-Insert] Inspired by Branches, the good SI fics (You know who you are), and Coffey Grain Whisky.
1. Chapter 1: Death in The Afternoon

Chapter 1: Death in the Afternoon

1.5 oz Absinthe, 4.5 oz Champagne, poured into a champagne flute

* * *

"Life is this crazy, mystical thing, and sometimes, you just go out like a buster." Joseph "Mang0" Marquez

* * *

Like an old film reel, fragmented images of his life, flashed in the nothingness. Then, blackness, the brightest darkness ever, or was it the darkest light ever? The only thing the being could perceive was that nothing was as it should be, yet everything was in its natural state. It was a finite, never-ending existence of contradiction. He was self-aware and could feel his form, but he had no tangibility. It truly was the greatest torture and the most amazing pleasure ever. Then, it stopped.

Despite not being aware of any physical form, he felt a violent jerk before his surroundings materialized as forcibly as possible, replacing the blank nothingness with vivid, saturated colors. He was in a room, of sorts. There was a floor, that much he knew, but rather than any real walls, there was just darkness, almost as though the world were a game that never finished loading. His back was resting against something soft, and his bottom was bent to an almost perfect, 90-degree angle, with his legs hanging limply off the edge of whatever he was on.

What was this feeling called again? Ah, yes. Sitting. He was sitting in a… chair.

The clearing of a throat signified that he was not alone. The blurred colors clarified, allowing him to process the table in front of him, and the figure opposite to him. This thing, despite its humanoid build and appearance, was not human. It could not be human. Its skin was hued with mauve overtones, poking out from the openings of the voluminous, pale cloak that garbed its body. His eyes roamed up the figure's torso and rested on its head. Unruly white hair covered much of the figure, interrupted only by sleek, curved red horns and a grinning face, with sharp teeth gleaming in the nonexistent light. For all intents and purposes, it still could have been a human, albeit a heavily altered human, if not for the wicked aura it gave off. Just being near it gave the lost soul a feeling of instinctual terror and respect.

Then, it spoke. It was a strange noise, grating heavily on his ears, but soothing on his nerves that he hadn't even known were frazzled. It was a deep, booming voice that conveyed a sense of both sagely wisdom and innocent purity.

"Another lost soul, roused from the sleep of Death," It said. "And by Death, I am of course speaking of none other than Myself."

The Being paused, probably hoping for some kind of reaction .The soul said nothing, as he wasn't sure he could even speak.

"You are interesting. No. That's not right. You are just another creature subject to its base instincts, like the rest of your kind."

It paused, inhaling deeply.

"It is your soul. It is unlike any other soul I have ever consumed."

Then, it pulled out a simple, single edged dagger and stabbed it violently into the table. Its Cheshire grin was gone.

"I cannot consume it. I cannot claim you as one of my own. Why is that? I know you are dead. No one knows of such matters more than I do. I wonder…"

It reached across the table, placing its black-tipped hands on his face, obscuring his vision. He felt something leave him but still felt whole. Then, his sight was returned to him. The grin had returned, full-force. It hummed appreciatively.

"I see. I cannot claim you, as you are not one of Mine. You do not belong here, yet, here you are, before Me."

It leaned forward, Its chilling breath washing over Its conversation partner.

"Tell me, do you fear me? Do you fear Death?"

Then, something clicked. The dead man finally found his voice.

"Fuck no. Fuck you. I'm too awesome to be weighed down by something like You."

Death jerked back. Then, He started to chuckle, letting out a sound vaguely reminiscent to the toll of funeral bells. It leaned forward pulling the knife out of the table.

"I've never had any creature ever speak to Me in such a way. It is both refreshing and vexing."

"Yeah, yeah. Say, do you have anything to drink?"

"I suppose so."

A ceramic bottle appeared on the table with a thump, followed by two smaller cups.

"I know what you want. You seek the intoxicating brew of the humans. What your kind calls alcohol."

"Hell yeah! Now we're talking."

He reached across the table to grab the bottle, but it vanished before he could touch it.

"No. No drinking yet. We haven't finished discussing what I want to talk about yet."

The dead man glared at He who Embodies Death. No one took his alcohol from him, not even all-powerful deities. He lunged across the table, only to be stopped mid leap. White linen tightly wrapped his body before pulling him back to his seat. He opened his mouth to yell some obscenities, but more linen wrapped around his head, effectively gagging him.

"We can't have any of that, can we?"

Death twirled the dagger listlessly in His hand.

"Now, what was I going to say? Ah, yes. I've seen some things when I read you. It would seem like this world that I claim dominion over the End of is merely a story to you. I read that story through your eyes, and I have to say, I do not like it. These shinobi trying to claim dominion over me, raising souls from the dead as undying warriors… The very idea sickens me."

The dagger disappeared back into the folds of his cloak as he folded his hands on top of the lacquered wood.

"This is where you come in. I have, in my infinite wisdom, developed a two-fold plan. You will be my tool to prevent this Sacrilege from ever occurring. I will grant you a life as a denizen of My lands, the Elemental Nations, if you do as I ask."

The cloth covering his mouth slackened and slipped off.

"Say I accept this deal. What's stopping me from just living out my life as I please and ignoring your orders? You've already implied that you cannot directly interfere in the mortal realm."

"How clever of you, human. Did you think I hadn't thought of this possibility? If you return to life in my realm, you will become my property. I will mark your soul, and you will never find any degree of peace if you stray from my orders."

"Then what's in it for me?"

Its grin broadened.

"Isn't it obvious? In my realm, there are many types of liquor that you cannot even imagine. Would you not jump at the chance to experience and revel in such earthly pleasures?"

The human slouched back and smiled.

"Well, you got me there. Fine. I agree. Fucking make me a ninja."

"Now, hold on. We still have more specifics to go over. Namely, who you will be in this world of mine."

The deity waved its billowing sleeve over the table, revealing a rough map of the Elemental Nations.

"These are my lands. Choose which nation you will die for."

He surveyed the map of a continent that was definitely not from his Earth.

"Which one's got the Leaf place? Just put me there."

He who Embodies Death stabbed his knife into the rough center of the map, chuckling as the metal rang through the room.

"So it's decided then. Now, let it be known that I am not a cruel God. I will grant you one boon."

Death pulled the dagger from the table dragging the map with it. With a flourish of the knife, the large sheet was cut into several cards with basic drawings on it. The deceased man surveyed the cards trying to find one to be born with.

 _Sharingan, the eye that grants you the ability perfectly read your enemies and place them under powerful illusions._ Pros: it's pretty badass. Cons: You will either get killed by Itachi or end up killing all of your closest friends.

Nah.

 _Byakugan, another of the big three doujutsu. Grants the user flawless vision at a range of nearly 360° as well as the ability to clearly see the flow of chakra in other living beings._ The main downsides were that he'd end up seeing something he never would never want to see and probably get branded with a painful, mind-altering juinjutsu.

Pass.

He picked up a card with 6 concentric circles, but was unable to choose it, as the Shinigami swiped it out of his hand.

"No. Not that one. The ability to reincarnate others pisses Me off like no other."

Brad simply shrugged and went on to the couple cards, which all looked about the same.

All of them listed some kind of elemental nature manipulation, such as the ice release or dust release. They were all devastatingly powerful if used correctly. Any person using any of these would become formidable ninjutsu powerhouses, more than capable of dominating a battlefield. Unfortunately, such a thing seemed to be extremely boring to someone like Brad.

Finally, after so many more cards listing generally unacceptable bloodlines, Brad happened upon the last card, which was partially under the resting hand of the death. It lacked the pristine quality of the other cards, and was instead wrinkled and stained with gray patches.

"Oi. What's that one?"

The purple hand clenched the around the card, wrinkling it further, and more importantly, obscuring its contents completely. An aura of tangible displeasure began to emanate from the otherworldly being.

"This one… should not be here. It was only a joke."

"Well, it's there, and you said I could choose from any of the cards."

He reached forward for the card. Death sighed, and relinquished his hold, letting the slip of paper float listlessly into Brad's outreached hand. His eyes widened at the sight of the card. A grin, pure and wholehearted, formed on his face.

"I'll take it."

"But–"

"I said, 'I'll take it.'"

"It's not even supposed to – "

"You said I can choose, and I choose this one."

The Shinigami growled. It was a horrifying noise. Then He slumped back into His chair, visibly showing His annoyance.

"Very well. Now, your name. I will give you one."

"How? There's no way I can just show up as a baby with a name. That'd be way too suspicious, dontcha think?"

"I would explain if you didn't interrupt me, you insolent human."

Brad groaned and slouched back in his chair. Smartly, he chose not to retort.

"You will be an orphan. They will call you Nanashi, a name given to children who have none. It would normally mean 'No Name.' Such is not the case for you. You will know the truth. Your name is now Nanashi, 七死."

The kanji swirled into the air in a pitch fog as the Shinigami spoke the name.

"The real meaning of your name is Seven Deaths. I'll let you figure out why on your own."

The room began to fade around Nanashi.

"One more thing, before you go. There is a clan that has a relic that allows them to control a part of me. It annoys me. You will be one of them, and you will destroy that entire damned shrine."

The last thing Nanashi saw was the wicked grin of Death. He raised His hand and gave a twisted imitation of a wave.

"Farewell for now. Do enjoy your stay."

Then, everything faded to black.

* * *

With the human gone, Death sat back in His chair, scrutinizing the card that Nanashi had chosen. Really, of all the great boons that could have been granted, the foolish mortal had gone and chose one that He had made on a whim. Honestly, the drawback of the power would have no real effect on this particular human. He grumbled and tossed the card onto the table before floating away.

 _Inebriation will increase your skills exponentially, but you will live a constant thirst for alcohol._

The world the human knew and the one He controlled the end of were just a little different, to say the least.

Oh well. At least this way, things would be more interesting.

* * *

AN: I'll update this in like 9 years. I have several terabytes of Love Live content to listen to/watch.

Special thanks to Sage Thrasher and To Mockingbird for their help in my shitty AU worldbuilding and sub-par grammar.


	2. Chapter 2: Redheaded Slut

Chapter 2: Redheaded Slut

1 oz Jägermeister, 1 oz Peach Schnapps, 3 oz cranberry, shaken (with ice), strained into a shot glass.

* * *

Hanabi hated the transfer student, who forced himself into her school life like a deceptively delicate storm. She barely even took notice of him when Funeno brought him into class. He was a pale little thing, his rust-red hair drooping over his pale face, obscuring one of his mauve eyes. She doubted that anyone in class was able to hear his lethargic self-introduction. Then, to her dissatisfaction, Daikoku directed him to the seat next to her, out of all the possible seats in the room.

He shuffled over, listlessly raising his hand in greeting before slumping into his new assigned seat, not even giving her the respect she deserved as a main branch member of one of Konoha's noble clans. She coughed into her hand, trying to get his attention. It was free time, after all, now was the perfect time to do proper introductions.

He didn't respond.

Miffed, she cleared her throat again, giving him a sideways glance. This time, he did respond. He looked back at her, not appearing to be intimidated by her eyes like most of her other classmates were.

"Are you sick or somethin'?" he drawled. "You should probably get that checked out. Death by some vague throat sickness is a really dumb way for a ninja-in-training to die."

He then dropped his head back onto his folded arms. She nearly growled in frustration. He was acting like one of those disreputable adults that her father told her to stay away from. She was almost able to resists the urge to slap his stupid head. Almost.

Still, he didn't respond.

She slapped him again.

Finally, he rolled his head over, giving her a tired stare, his head cradled in folded arms.

"What?"

"We are classmates _and_ deskmates. Since you've been given the honor of sitting next to me, you may as well properly introduce yourself."

"Aren't you supposed to introduce yourself first before asking for someone else's name?"

Her scowl deepened.

"Very well. I am Hana-"

"Actually, I think I already know who you are. You're the Huggy heiress's baby sister, right?"

" _Baby Sister?_ I'm pretty sure I'm older than you, you reprobate. And, it's Hyūga, not Huggy. Also, how dare you inter-"

"Interrupt you? Sorry, you just talk so much that I figured it'd be the best way to shut you up," he cut in, not sounding apologetic at all.

Hanabi inhaled deeply, struggling to find the composure that her father said that a noble kunoichi must uphold.

"Anyways, I'm Nanashi. Family name's Uzumaki, I think. You can call me what ever you want, since I probably won't respond," he said, covering his face once again.

Hanabi lost her composure, giving the back of his head a savage slap, which reverberated throughout the room. All the chatter stopped.

"You are a stupid idiot and I already hate you!" Hanabi screeched. "And my name is Hanabi _Hyuuga_ , you dummy."

"Hanabi!" Funeno barked out, slapping his hand on the table. "I am very disappointed in you. You've gone so long without a single bad mark on your record, and your first misdeed is against our transfer student?"

Hanabi paled, not able to formulate proper words.

"I trusted you to be responsible enough to help our new student get acclimated to life in our village."

"I guess I'll have to move you, Nanashi."

He paused, his eyes roaming across the room.

"Nah, sensei" Nanashi said, finally sitting up straight, propping his head on his palm. "I can stay here next to Hyūga-sama. She was just showing me some taijutsu basics against her will."

Hanabi began to grind her teeth. What kind of excuse was that? It wasn't that she didn't appreciate him trying to defend her; he could have at least put some effort into it. Daikoku simply nodded his head sagely before sitting back down. He straightened the stack of papers on his desk.

"Fair enough, Nanashi. Please, refrain from forcing classmates to attack you outside of spars. Actually, just refrain from forcing people to hit you overall. That can't be good for your health."

Nanashi did not look guilty whatsoever as he got up to bow.

"Yeah. I'm sorry sensei, _Hyūga-sama._ "

When he sat back down, his head was immediately nestled in his arms as he slept the rest of the day away. Hanabi, on the other hand, spent more time stealing glances at him than she would like to admit. She glanced at him one last time as the late Fourth's wife of all people picked him up.

* * *

Kushina walked awkwardly alongside her new relative, who was looking at her with the same mixture of surprise and confusion that she no doubt eyed him with. She kept trying to open her mouth, but each time she tried, her tongue turned into lead and her mouth filled with cotton. She glanced over, focusing on his scarlet hair, as she always did. Was he bullied for it like she was? At times like this, she almost wished Naruto had inherited her own hair rather than taking after his father in the looks department.

Her eyes trailed down, locking on the boy's hands, which were hanging limply at his side. She reached down to grab his hand, but it slipped limply out of her hand. He didn't even seem to notice. Frustrated, she stopped and stomped her foot. The village around them paused near-immediately.

Sadly, the one person whose attention she was actually trying to get decided that her stomp wasn't noteworthy and continued to shamble aimlessly. Where was he even going? He only just got through the screening process.

"Oi." He finally stopped.

"Somethin' wrong?" the boy slurred, sounding vaguely like an old drunkard.

"Yeah, what's wrong with you? Where's all your energy?"

He shrugged.

"Do you even know who I am?" she asked.

He squinted, grabbing a fistful of his own hair.

"Are you my grandma?"

The Jinchuuriki's hair began to rise, fueled by her anger.

"I'm probably barely old enough to be your mother, 'tabane! I even have a son who's barely older than you."

"Oh. That's neat. So what, are you my long-lost 'real' mom? Or a realllly old sister? Wait, last guess: the replacement mom the village is giving me to ensure absolute loyalty."

And just like that, her hair wilted.

"What? No. I'm not trying to replace anyone. I'm just your family, y'know? There's so little of us left that we should really try to stick together…" she trailed off.

"Oh. Well that's good. So the redhead that those bandits tore apart really was my mom then. Neat."

Kushina paled.

"W-what?" she stuttered.

"Yeah. Watched her get knocked out trying to get me away while those bandits tore her apart with some crazy-ass earth manipulation. Really, a life-changing experience for most people," he said flatly.

"Nanashi, I don't think they were just bandits…"

He simply shrugged again and started walking along the vacated street. Kushina bit back a groan and caught up with him.

"So, you clearly know my name. What's yours?"

Kushina paused for once.

"Right, right. I'm so sorry. I'm Kushina Uzumaki. I'm your aunt… or something like that."

He stared at her for a good couple minutes. Kushina started to shift uncomfortably under his expressionless gaze.

"And you're still alive? Neat."

The widow was completely unable to respond to any of that.

"Anyways, where are we heading, your place? I noticed that the guy who interrogated me didn't really give me a place to stay."

"Yeah! You're staying at my place!It's not too big, but more than enough space for three people to live comfortably."

"Three people?"

"Oh yeah! I have a son," she said, her eyes gleaming with her usual joviality with some easily recognizable maternal pride mixed in. "He's a bit older than you, but I'm sure you'll get along with him just fine."

"Alright, then."

With that, the two continued to walk on. Kushina bent down to grab Nanashi's hand, but, again, it slipped out of her grip like a limp noodle.

Dammit.

* * *

Naruto was excited. It was a good day so far. A great day, really. His team, while a bit of a let down due to the existence of Sasuke, his childhood friend/rival/worst enemy, was amazing, since he was put on a team with the Amazing Sakura Haruno and Rin, his sister, as his sensei. To top it all off, his mom constantly hinted about some big surprise throughout the day.

Maybe she knew about his team and wanted to reward him for his impromptu graduation exam. Maybe she was going to train him personally, on top of team training, to make him a super badass ninja like she was. Maybe…

He opened the door to his shared apartment and was met with the strangest of sites. Maybe, just maybe, she was secretly pregnant and finally saw him as mature enough to meet his own long lost brother.

Standing on the other side of the door was a tiny boy, with hair as shockingly red as his mothers, and eyes only slightly lighter than her nearly black eyes. He barely reached the blond's torso, and was almost painfully thin, with one of Naruto's own old shirts hanging precariously off of his frail frame.

For once in his life, the newly graduated Genin had no words. So, he waited, and stared, hoping his mother would come into the picture and explain everything like she always did. Unfortunately, she didn't come out. He wasn't even sure if she was home. Naruto cleared his throat audibly.

"I'm home," he stuttered, in a voice far more raspy than he was expecting.

The smaller boy blinked before responding.

"Welcome back. I'm Nanashi. I'm your cousin, or something," he drawled, turning around and shuffling back into the cozy apartment. "Nice meeting you, unless you're not Naruto, then… I don't know, maybe talk to Kushina?"

He proceeded to slump over the couch. Naruto, still focused on his new cousin, slipped off his sandals and shambled into the house, until he walked face first into a face-full of green cloth. He sprung back, into a loosely ready stance beat into his head by his mother and glared at the woman, who had her arms crossed over her chest.

"Is that really how you're going to treat your beloved mother, Naru-chan?" she smiled beatifically, her hands tightening on the ladle in her grasp. Metal began to creak, cutting through the tension-filled silence of the room.

"No, of course not, mom. I was just trying to impress you, ya'know?" he laughed awkwardly, "I'm a brand new ninja, after all. Always gotta be ready and all that jazz."

Several seconds burned by painfully slowly as the ladle began to warp further. Another one for the pile of used trash that Kushina refused to throw out.

Then, her grip slackened, causing Naruto's shoulders to do the same.

"That's nice. I'm so glad you've been taking your dearest mommy's teachings to heart."

"Yeah, of course," he stammered out.

With the tension mostly gone, Naruto walked over to his mother, pulling her down like he had done for many years.

"Hey Mom, can we talk for a bit?" he asked in a hushed town, stealing glances at the boy slumped over their couch like a sack of potatoes.

"Sure!" she responded, speaking just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

"I meant with just the two of us," Naruto said, suppressing a sigh of frustration

"Oh, sure," she whispered conspiratorially.

Naruto grimaced. Honestly, he was a Genin now, a proper adult. She should stop treating him like a little kid. With a sigh, he grabbed her hand and dragged her into the kitchen. He glanced around again, making sure his "cousin" was still doing whatever he was doing on the couch.

"Mom, who the heck is he?"

"Oh?" she tilted her head to the side, acting like a girl half her actual age, "I thought he introduced himself already? He's your cousin, or something."

"There's no way! You told me we were the last. Him popping up out of nowhere is just too suspicious!"

Kushina sighed.

"I know that, but there are so many factors that point towards the reality that he's family. He's got the hair, the facial structure, and I know you can't feel it yet, but even his chakra has the same potency as the people I grew up around. The only thing he's lacking is our enthusiasm and energy, which is honestly worrying."

Naruto simply pouted in response.

"C'mon Naruto, he's family. It's our duty to at least make sure he's happy and well, right? His life was apparently really rough until he finally made it to Konoha. Also, I always told you that we were _probably_ the last. In a situation like ours, a little hope could never really be a bad thing, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Naruto grunted. Kushina then slapped her fist into her palm.

"I get it now. You're not dubious or being super analytical or anything; You're just jealous and scared of being replaced by Nanashi!"

Kushina opened her arms, standing steadily with her feet at shoulder width.

"Come, Naruto! Embrace your mother!"

Naruto, left with no other option, sprinted away from his obviously insane parent. Instinctively, he grabbed the hanging hand of the boy on the couch and dragged him along, barely giving him enough time to stumble onto his feet.

Kushina, alone in the kitchen, smirked and went back to cooking dinner. They'd be back eventually. They had no choice. She glanced over at a slightly plump frog-shaped coin purse rested innocuously on the countertop.

Yep, definitely coming back.

* * *

 **AN: Yes, Nanashi is the aforementioned redheaded slut. It was the only cocktail I could think of that involved redheads.**


	3. Chapter 3: Grasshopper

Chapter 3: Grasshopper

3/4 oz Créme de Menthe (green), 3/4 oz Créme de Cacao (white), 3/4 oz Light Cream/Single Cream, shaken (with ice), strained into classic cocktail glass.

* * *

 **This chapter is more or less unedited because why not?** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

When Naruto came screeching into the stand nearly 2 hours past the team's agreed meeting time, Rin was hit with the strangest mixture of crushing heartbreak and wistful nostalgia. The image of a goggle-clad black haired boy superimposed itself on the boy as he gave a faulty excuse about his tardiness - something about a long lost relative springing out of nowhere and an insane mother with a frying pan of death. She silently, ruefully shook her head, focusing back on the present.

"- anyways, this is him! His name's Nanashi, and he super shy, so I decided to be a good older brother person and introduce him to some people in the village!"

He dragged tiny figure out from behind him. When his gaze met hers, the boy seemed to jolt in surprise for barely a second before forcing lethargy back to the forefront of his body language. If not for her many years of living, surviving as a shinobi, she most likely would have missed such a minute gesture. The two stared at each other in silence before Naruto, being the socialite he was, cut in.

"C'mon guys, this is the part where we all introduce each other!" he said, patting his relative on the shoulder. The boy's slight frame buckled under the sudden force, causing him to fall to the ground. Rin narrowed her eyes slightly. The show of apparent weakness was clearly intentional.

Naruto yelped and struggled to pull Nanashi back onto his feet.

"How are you still so low on energy? Dammit, mom's gonna kill me if I bring you back covered in dirt like this."

Rin heard her other two students chuckle lightly behind her. Any existing tension or awkward atmosphere was more or less gone at this point.

Once he was stable, the redhead groaned and bowed clumsily.

"I'm Nanashi... Uzumaki, I guess. My parents were brutally murdered, but I still have family, which is neat. I'll be in your care today."

Naruto loudly palmed his face.

"Remind me to teach you proper etiquette when we get the chance, Nanashi."

"Like you're qualified to teach anyone anything about etiquette, idiot," one of his teammates drawled, scoffing disdainfully.

"Oh, and you're so elegant, you stuck up bastard?! Why don't you introduce yourself so that I can point out all the damn things you did wrong."

The blonde was promptly cuffed by his team leader.

"I'm pretty sure you were raised to not use such crass words, especially in front of the young and impressionable," Rin ground out. "But you do have a point. Why don't you two introduce yourselves to Nanashi?"

"I'm Sasuke, of the Uchiha clan. I'm second in command for our squadron. Thank you for joining us today."

He quickly clamped his hand over Naruto's mouth before the blond could say anything. Nanashi simply nodded in response. The pink-haired girl of the team gingerly stepped around her squabbling teammates, bending over to be eye level with their guest.

"My name's Haruno Sakura, but feel free to call me Sakura. Pleased to meet you."

She lightly tousled the boy's hair, and chuckled when he did nothing to push her off. A panicked gasp quickly replaced her laugh when he crumbled under what was, in her opinion, a gentle touch.

Fortunately, there was a highly trained Jonin in the premises with reflexes more than capable of catching him.

"Naruto, where'd you get him from? He's dead on his feet," Rin chastised, as the redhead slumped into her side.

Sasuke yelped, shaking saliva off his palm as Naruto ducked around his teammates.

"Sorry, nee-chan! I thought some time outside would wake him up from his funk," he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "He was almost melded to the couch when I got home earlier."

Rin simply shook her head and propped Nanashi onto a stool, resting his upper body against the wall, hoping the relatively flimsy material could support the boy. Deciding it was a night to celebrate, Rin ordered a small bottle of sake with her bowl.

Overall, the dinner was as chaotic as any dinner with Naruto was, with the blond constantly fretting over his cousin falling face first into his ramen. Rin left for her apartment in a good mood, her senses slightly buzzing from the extra sake that the chef offered free of charge. She almost didn't even notice the small bulge in Nanashi's pockets as she bade farewell to the kids.

What a nice boy, bringing things home for his guardian.

* * *

Hanabi stared at Nanashi intently as he shuffled into their shared classroom. He seemed different. There was a hint of _something_ in his eyes. They were less dead than they should be. He surveyed the room, lidded eyes roaming over the room before locking on her. He plodded over to her and slumped into the his usual seat to her right.

"Uzumaki-san," she greeted curtly.

"Huggy-dono," he replied.

She simply snorted primly, choosing not to fall for his petty insults; they became stale after the 50th time. She gave him a sidelong glance, noticing the knapsack that he had strapped across his torso.

"What's in the bag?"

"It's just my lunch," he droned back, leaning onto the bag, which caused the contents to clink together.

Once again, choosing not to rise to his pedantic foolery, she focused her attention on Funeno, who droned on about some chakra exercises that she had already mastered. Nanashi had already fallen asleep, hiding his rested head behind a clumsily propped up book. It was like the lout didn't even care for his low standing in class.

The day passed in a mundane fashion up until lunch. Nanashi jolted awake with a disgustingly cheerful expression on his face. Hanabi resisted the urge to visibly cringe. Was this actually Nanashi, the same parasite that latched onto her social life for the better part of the school year?

She coughed into her fist.

"Before you say anything about any lingering sicknesses, that cough was just to get your attention."

He absentmindedly nodded as he pulled a small cup from his bag. Hanabi almost scowled.

"Anyways, what has you so… excited today?" she asked, trying to find the right words to describe his unnatural disposition.

"I get to do a practical test of something I've been testing for the past couple months," he replied, pulling a tinted bottle with a scratched from his bag. Hanabi vaguely recognized the bottles as the ones her father brought out to entertain his guests. Then, everything clicked.

"Did you really bring contraband into the academy?" she hissed.

"We're training to be ninja. Nothing's contraband as long as we don't get caught," he shrugged.

With an almost practiced ease and precision, he took a hearty swig from the bottle before filling his cup, which he also downed quickly. Before she could blink, the bottle was already gone and the cup refilled. Had this slacker always been so dextrous? She studied him carefully, taking in the sight of his half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Are you intoxicated? We have taijutsu training in the afternoons. Are you trying to get me in trouble?"

He just shrugged before throwing the bottle over the fence lazily. Hanabi flinched when she heard the oddly familiar sound something tumbling into a wastebasket. She narrowed her gaze, unconsciously activating her byakugan.

His pathways were erratic, the languid flow of his chakra hastening at random intervals. Did this fool have no self control? He was younger than her, and her only disciple at the academy at that, even if such a relation was thrusted on her by his insistence. The boy began to do some warmups, miraculously stumbling through them without planting his face into the dirt. Was he actually planning to fight her today? His imminent, catastrophic failure in their regular spar would reflect poorly on her, more so than his constant surrenders would be.

She groaned. The only way to possibly salvage her situation was obviously to not hold back and crush any other rampant ideas running through his head. The Hyuuga noble inhaled deeply. Such was the role of those in high standing, she reminded herself.

When their teacher called them to signal the end of their break period, Hanabi deactivated her doujutsu and stowed her half eaten lunch away, ignoring the urge to help the underage drunk doddering behind her. When they were seated around the sparring ring, she kept her foot firmly planted on top of his, to keep him grounded of course. Releasing any latent frustrations was just an additional boon.

"Hanabi, is Nanashi feeling sick? He looks a bit flushed."

Before she could respond, the infuriating redhead cut in.

"Never felt better, Sensei," he slurred.

Somehow, he was able to slip his foot out from under hers without her noticing.

"If you're sure, Nanashi," the portly chunin responded.

As usual, the class paid no mind as Nanashi and Hanabi squared off in the pit, even with the redhead dizzily swaying in place. They were likely making bets to see whether the sloth would surrender immediately or exaggeratedly fall over from her first hit.

Unfortunately, neither betting pool was correct. Hanabi's straightforward jab, which usually ended their spars in one way or another, missed its mark by a hair's breadth. Nanashi swayed past her palm in an ungraceful stumble with his own fist whipping out at her chin. With years of training with her father to hone her instincts, Hanabi was barely able to intercept the strike with her own, knocking her opponent off balance. Taught to capitulate on any and all openings in combat, the Hyuga struck out, aiming at the shoulder of the boy springing back into a standing position.

Somehow, he was able to stop his momentum completely and roll onto the ground, using hands to spring into the bastardized form of divekick used by Konoha's premier jumpsuit-clad taijutsu specialist. Hanabi barely jumped out of the way, subconsciously activating her byakugan in a fit of adrenaline. With chakra lining her strikes, she let out a rapid, but precise succession of strikes, all of which were dodged.

Red hair whipped through the air as Nanashi weaved through her attacks, a lazy smile plastered onto his reddened face. Hanabi tried to backstep as he pushed through her offence and almost squeaked when she was face to face with him. The smell of alcohol coming from him was rank as he breathed haggardly on her face. Then, he did the unthinkable.

He burped. On her face.

"Whoops."

Hanabi let out a scream of fury, renewing her assault with more vigor than before. She could feel the drain of chakra to her eyes as her vision intensified, her mind subconsciously registering the brightened points of his overactive tenketsu. Then finally, her palm met something solid. Instinctually, she let out a burst of chakra to disable her opponent. She cheered inwardly.

However, her revelry was cut short when something blindingly solid cracked against her face, knocking her several feet back onto the ground. She glanced up to see a red chain wrapped around her opponent's arm, with another coiling away from her.

"Well, at least it's not yarn," he slurred before vomiting onto the spot that she previously occupied.

Before anything else could happen, the grey blur of an ANBU unit flashed through the room, whisking her inebriated opponent away from the academy building. With any sense of decorum forgotten at this point, Hanabi blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

"What the fuck?"

The next day, Funeno sensei announced to the class that Nanashi would no longer be a part of their class. Hanabi felt an uncomfortable sensation build in the pit of her stomach. Was this her fault?

* * *

Tenzo stood stiffly before the Hokage's piercing gaze. Manicured fingers drummed almost absentmindedly against the hardwood desk. He tensed up. She was irritated. The subtle expression would be missed on most people, but he proudly counted himself among the cadre of Leaf shinobi who knew her best. After all, he's had 23 years to get used to his mother's idiosyncratic gestures. He glanced over at the wooden cocoon resting to his left. Small tufts of red hair poked out from the breathing holes he created.

The village leader leaned back sighing deeply.

"Senju Yamato," she began. The anbu in question flinched. She was using his real name, and his full name at that. "Would you care to explain why you have your mission objective forcibly restrained? Do I need to remind you that he is only an academy student."

He gulped.

"You see, he…" Yamato trailed off.

"He what?"

"He's developed his kekkei genkai during a spar against a high profile student. He was restrained to prevent any damage from a chakra based weapon that he might not have full control over."

"Yamato," she said bluntly. "Did you know that your great-grandmother's chains tore through the first Hokage's mokuton like paper?"

Behind his mask, Yamato paled. He shakily brought his hands together, reducing the wooden restraints to scattered sawdust. Tsunade coughed, and the wood was quickly swept away by an unseen ANBU agent. Nanashi, the now confirmed Uzumaki, rolled forward, landing in a lazy sitting postion, swaying slightly.

Tsunade narrrowed her eyes.

"Oh, Yama-kun," she said, in a sickeningly saccharine voice. Windows slammed close as ANBU stationed in the room evacuated as quickly as possible. The Senju heir began to shake as an ingrained sense of foreboding washed over him. "Did you allow a 6 year old to get inebriated at a government sanctioned learning institution?"

Before he could reply, Nanashi cut in.

"Holy crap, _you're_ Hokage. How the fuck did they get you to take up the hat?"

Yamato tried to covertly inch his way out of the room, but was stopped by a baleful glare from his mother. He was an ANBU stealth specialist. How did his mom always find him? Was it some kind of sixth sense that all parents developed?

"Anyways, I've been experimenting with alcohol for the past six months. I was more than in control this time."

The ANBU captain tried to make himself as small as possible at this point.

"I thought it was just his way of coping with his parents' deaths," he stammered out. "He never summoned any chains or other chakra constructs under my supervision."

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, as he was knocked into a seiza by a stapler that somehow rebounded off of the wall behind him to impact against the back of his head.

"You thought it was okay for a _six-year-old child_ to use alcohol as a coping mechanism? A child - who, as you should know by now, is technically our blood relative - whose development could be stunted in an innumerable amount of ways by underage drinking."

Nanashi chose this point to start lowly chuckling to himself as he played listlessly with a chain link between his hands. Tsunade stood up from her desk and picked him up gingerly, staring intently into his half-lidded eyes. She glare softened.

"This must be my fault. I've failed you as a mother," she mumbled to herself. "Gave you too much freedom."

Yamato was also on his feet at this point.

"No, mother. It's not your fault," he blurted out. "You did everything to keep me anonymous and safe."

Tsunade flicked his mask, cracking it down the middle.

"Of course I know that," she growled back. "I just needed you to admit it."

Konoha's top - only - mokuton specialist gaped at her with an open mouth.

Ignoring him, Tsunade placed Nanashi onto one of the spare chairs in the room.

"Anyways, now that you've failed your _covert_ surveillance mission so splendidly, I suppose I might as well punish you," she dismissively drawled. "Remove your mask Yamato. You're dismissed from anbu."

Yamato shakily complied as his mother leaned back onto her desk, smiling at Nanashi.

"Nanashi-chan, meet your new caretaker and tutor for any and all shinobi arts you wish to learn. This is my son, Tokubetsu Jonin Yamato Senju."

The boy lazily nodded back at his new teacher who stared back in horror. Tsunade smiled as she watched the Uzumaki Clan's incredible metabolism visibly manifested in the rapidly fading flush of the boy's cheeks.

"Shizune, I'm going on break!" the Hokage barked, throwing her hat onto the desk. "C'mon. I'll help you explain the situation to Kushi-chan. Sage knows you can't do it on your own."

Yamato blankly followed, resting his hand on the younger boy's shoulder to lead him along. Nanashi chose to break the silence, further ruining Yamato's day.

"So you're blond _and_ the son of Tsunade? What the fuck is this place?" the boy said, blinking in awe and disbelief.

Tsunade slapped her son on the head. The man in question could only gawk in indignation. How was that his fault?

Seriously, could this day get any worse?


	4. Chapter 4: Crouching Tiger

Chapter 4: Crouching Tiger

3/4 oz Lychee Liqour, 3/4 oz Silver Tequila, shaken (with ice), strained into chilled shot glass

* * *

Nothing was right. Nothing made sense. All foreknowledge is more or less worthless.

These thoughts pounded through Nanashi's head as he tried to process his current situation. He pieced together the information he was able to glean while living with the living Kushina Uzumaki who shouldn't be alive at all.

Manga: Yamato, formerly known as Tenzou, is a former ROOT agent and experiment by Orochimaru to cultivate the Mokuton in Konoha's forces.

Fact: He's actually the son of Tsunade, who is somehow already the fifth Hokage, and is a naturally born Mokuton user who just happens to be _blond_.

Manga: Minato and Kushina sacrificed their lives to seal the Kyuubi, which was released by a deranged Obito, into their newborn son.

Fact: Obito was forcibly controlled by Zetsu into releasing the Nine-Tails and burnt both himself and Zetsu alive with a focused Amaterasu. Minato was then able to safely seal the Kyuubi into his wife and child at the expense of his own life.

Conclusion: Fuck the Shinigami.

He angrily kicked a rock as he entered his designated training ground _at 4 o'clock in the morning._ Fucking insane Senju training habits. The rock flew across the wooded clearing and was nimbly caught by his appointed tutor, who hadn't even turned around.

"Good morning to you too, Nanashi," he blandly greeted, letting the rock roll to the ground.

The reborn soul grunted in response, doffing his jacket and throwing it haphazardly over a low-hanging branch. Instinctually, he slid into the various stretches that Yamato drilled as something of "utmost importance." The man, who was frustratingly earnest in his teachings, slid into the same stances, moving with his pupil in perfect synchronization.

"So, how goes your training with your chains."

"Bad."

Yamato pinched his nose before responding.

"And what seems to be the issue this time?"

Nanashi opened his mouth to respond but was cut off.

"And don't mention anything about a lack of alcohol."

The redhead scowled and narrowed his gaze at his teacher.

"It comes out as yarn still. I'm telling ya, my body only ever works properly when I have some of the gods' nectar flowing through my veins."

"And I'm telling _you,_ that a true ninja doesn't rely on something that should be a trump card all the time. After all—"

"—something that boosts your performance works best when your base strength is up to par. I know, you fucking anal retentive tree hugger."

A nearby branch whipped forward, slapping the Uzumaki on the back of his neck. Yamato smirked at his student laying on the ground.

"I know you're still awake. Now c' mon, we're working on your chakra control today. If you're good, I'll take you to that ramen stand your cousin's always at."

When this elicited no response, the jonin sighed and continued.

"We can even work on that drunken fist style that Gai gave us scrolls for."

Nanashi rolled over, staring at his teacher's dark gaze. The bastard was getting too good at manipulating him. He groaned and sprung onto his feet.

"Fine, fine. What are we working on today? More leaf sticking?"

"No. I already know you can do that, you lazy bum. We're going to be learning tree walking today."

The drunk ambled over to the nearest tree, planting his foot at its base.

"What are you doing?"

"Practicing tree walking."

Nanashi paled as an unidentifiable but worrying glint passed through Yamato's eyes.

"Who said that we were going to practice here?"

The redhead sagged as the jonin picked him up by the scruff of the neck.

"We're going to my favorite training ground. I've already gained clearance from my mother to use it."

Without another word, the two disappeared in a swirl of leaves, a dusty jacket draped over a branch left as the only evidence that they were ever there.

* * *

Traveling via shunshin was uncomfortable to the point of nausea. Luckily, years of holding back alcohol-induced vomit were the only thing stopping Nanashi from unleashing his breakfast onto his mentor's flak jacket. He looked up to see Yamato's smug grin staring him down, sizing him up.

"Good. You didn't vomit all over me," the ex-ANBU stated matter of factly, with the sunlight somehow breaking through the thick canopy above perfectly enough to glare blindingly off of his happuri. "I'd have to find another way to worsen your punishment if you did."

"Wait, what am I being punished for?"

"I'll think up a good enough reason if you survive. Good luck. I'll be…" Yamata paused, drawing circles in the air, "around."

With a parting pat on his student's back, Yamato jumped into the thick foliage, blending into the mottled leaves. Nanashi glared up at the trees before reaching into his hidden pockets for his private stash, only to find…

Nothing.

After a quick rude gesture towards the direction that he felt his mentor's chakra trailing off to, Nanashi groaned and wandered around the forest, which looked oddly familiar, with its almost comically massive trees and vegetation.

Suddenly, his "secure location" was accosted by several strange chakra signatures. Off in the distance, several shadows sped through the somehow perfectly spaced branches. Something was off, Nanashi just knew it. He glared at the approaching figures suspiciously.

Then, it hit him.

The fun-sized alcoholic gasped in pain as a massive tiger pounced on him. He hurridly coated forearms with chakra as it attempted to rip his face off. He then made the chakra flow over his body, not unlike water, hoping to remove any possible friction between himself and the giant tiger. Unfortunately, Nanashi's experiments with chakra were limited to correlations with inebriation, so the most his panicked maneuver accomplished was irritating the jungle predator.

It growled in his face, covering his face with speckles of spittle. Ignoring the growing pain in his forearms, he clumsily channeled an exorbitant amount of chakra through his legs and _pushed._ He felt several cracks in his leg as the tiger's abdomen exploded in a burst of gore. He rolled the upper half of the beast off of his prone form and stumbled into a kneeling position. Several jolts of pain coursed through his right leg as he pushed himself up onto his feet. Eyeing the remaining tiger prowling around the clearing, Nanashi fumbled through his pouch for the bottles of sake he smuggled with him. To his dismay, he found a folded note in their place.

 _Can't have you relying on a crutch too much, kid. ~Yamato_

He tore the note in half with a growl of frustration. He was like 6 years old! How was any of this OK? Ignoring the moral qualms of leaving a child in possession of liquor, he fumbled with his left sandal, while maintaining eye contact with the remaining tiger. With a puff of smoke, Nanashi summoned a flask in his hand. He quickly uncorked and downed the contents, allowing for the familiar warm sensation wash over his body, which began to lightly sway in place. Without missing a beat, he lobbed the flask at the tiger's face, making a sickening squelch echo through the trees as the feline's skull cracked under the weight of the metal flask.

Nanashi then stumbled over to the corpse, digging through the skeletal shrapnel for his prized possession, which he promptly sealed back into his ankle. Then, pulling out a kunai, he carved what meat he could from the corpse, nicking himself several times in the process. Groaning loudly, the shinobi-in-training fell on his ass, the pain from his bones resetting themselves with the alcohol flowing through his body forcing his chakra-fueled healing into overdrive. Various cuts and scrapes hissed and closed as the haunting feeling of sobriety began to creep into his psyche.

Once his wounds forcibly healed, he clumsily tried to start a fire from memory. However, his short stint in the Acadamy did little in honing his survival skills. The most Nanashi could achieve was a broken pile of twigs and dry leaves. He scowled before throwing the diminutive pile of meat onto his even more diminutive attempt at a fire. Stupid Yamato. Stupid Kishimoto. Stupid fucking Shinigami. Who the hell expects a 6-year-old to be able to survive in a training ground in which trained shinobi twice his age struggle to survive?

With a final shout of frustration, he punched a nearby tree, unconsciously summoning chains of ethereal light which shred through the entirety of the trunk. Growling again as wooden shrapnel splintered his forearms, which he had hurriedly pulled up to protect his face, the boy jumped back, missing his footing and once again landing on his back. He looked up to see the Blond Bastard standing over him with a hand outstretched. The man had the gall to look apologetic.

"I'm really sorry. I'm too used to training ANBU, I guess," he said, awkwardly wagging his hand around.

The boy roughly grabbed the hand, allowing for the stupid trainer to pull him up.

"Fine. Just get me out of these woods. I need a fuckin' drink," Nanashi grumbled back, running his fingers on the various tears littering his clothing. With that said, his world once again blurred before he found himself back in a familiar training ground.

"No alcohol. My mother would kill me if kept letting you get inebriated under my watch."

"What do you think she'll do if I tell her you forced me to fight giant, chakra-enhanced tigers unsupervised?" Nanashi replied with a smirk.

Yamato immediately paled.

"H-how about we go back to my place and unwind over a nice cup of sake?" he stammered back.

"Oh? Taking a young and impressionable disciple back to your place for some grown-up juice? I didn't think you had it in ya, Blondie," Nanashi snorted. "I'll pass. I'm gonna go see if Kushina can help me get medical attention."

He donned his jacket, which was left on the same tree for the entirety of the disastrous attempt of a training session and stumbled back into the village proper.

* * *

This brat was going to be the death of him. He knew it the moment he was ordered to train him. Once again, Yamato found himself kneeled before his mother, with the unwanted addition of an angry Kushina, hair ominously flowing in the nonexistent wind.

"Let me get this straight. You brought young Nanashi here," the Hokage growled, gesturing to the child lying face down between him and the desk, "into a training ground reserved for shinobi Chunin rank and higher —"

"Without clearance," Kushina cut in.

"—behind your mother's back, and expected him to survive for how long?"

Yamato mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" Tsunade barked.

"One week. It's the standard for all of my previous trainees."

"Ah yes, all of your heavily vetted and trained ANBU candidates. Of course, a six-year-old could easily match their prowess."

"But Itachi—" Yamato blurted, trying to justify himself.

"Ah yes. Itachi Uchiha, the child who was brought into an active warzone by his parents to stimulate accelerated growth. From what I remember, he forcibly removed himself from the Shinobi forces and still chooses to schedule sessions with Inoichi. I'm so glad that you're trying to force the same fate onto my youngest relative."

Yamato paled, as sweat began to bead up under his happuri.

"But I—" he said, trying to find a different justification.

"Yes, you. My only child, who I had to force into an accelerated training program designed for times of heavy wartime due to repeated attempts on his life during his short stint as a genin. What dangers does Nanashi face within the village? Are you doubting the security measures that your godfather Orochimaru gave his life to set up?"

At this point, the brat chose to stop feigning sleep, rolling over.

"Wait, Orochimaru's dead? Dammit. I had like 20 snake puns ready for when he attacks us."

Yamato quickly ducked as a paperweight flew over his head and _through_ the wall behind him.

"You didn't even bother to teach him of our family history? You were supposed to supplement anything he would miss in the academy. And here you are, besmirching the name of those who fell for our survival for what? Some kind of sick joke?"

"Nah, that part's not Yamato's fault," the brat slurred. Yamato silently thanked whatever deity decided to save his ass.

"I'm basing that from my talk with the Shinigami," he continued.

The temperature in the room dropped at that moment.

"You saw the Shinigami? How? When?" Tsunade stated, vaulting the table and pulling the boy up to eye level with her.

"Uhhh. I met him earlier?" he replied, somehow exuding both confidence and uncertainty in the same sentence.

Tsunade slowly placed him back to the ground before pacing over to the window, with her back to the other occupants of the room.

"Yamato, Kushina, you are both excused for the day. Nanashi will be under my care for the remainder of the day. There are texts that the two of us must go through."

Kushina hesitantly walked out of the office, her hair long-since drooped back to its natural state. With another look at Nanashi, who had since rolled back into a face-down position, Yamato exited as well, fear bubbling in his chest. Without another look, he shut the door behind him with a soft click.

This wasn't completely his fault, right?

* * *

 **Nanashi's back, fighting, and absolutely dreadful at it. Once again, mostly unedited because why not.**


End file.
